The Sad, Sad Tale of Two White Knights
by Helen C
Summary: Title says it all…
1. Part One

**Title **: The Sad, Sad Tale of Two White-Knights

**Author** : Helen C.

**Rating** : PG

**Summary **: Title says it all…

**Disclaimer **: The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**AN**. Written for Brandywine's hiatus challenge. My prompts were : bullet, haze, pink. 

Many, many thanks to joey51, who beta'd this.

* * *

**The Sad, Sad Tale of Two White-Knights**

Helen C.

_Part One_

The night started innocently enough.

The finals were slowly approaching and Seth wanted to spend an evening on the town. "Just the two of us, man," he told Ryan. "Like, you know…"

"Kavalier and Clay, yeah," Ryan replied. The comparison had gotten old over two years ago, but Seth still seemed to like it. "Whatever."

Seth bounced on his feet, unabashed by Ryan's lack of enthusiasm.

Just because their outings often ended up badly didn't mean that it would be the case tonight.

Certainly not.

Once she learned about the plan, Summer decided that the boys needed a chaperone. "You'll get in trouble if I'm not here," she said, her tone firm. "You need someone to make sure no one will end up in jail, or god knows where else."

Because he valued his manhood, Seth didn't point out that Summer had been present the last time cops had been involved in their lives.

Then, Marissa asked if she could tag along, things with Julie having reached an all-time low. Ryan, being Ryan, was unable to turn her down. "She looked about to cry," he said apologetically. "What was I to do?"

Seth had a good thousand smart replies in mind to that, but he knew Ryan, and he knew Marissa, and he knew Ryan-and-Marissa. He didn't know if this thing between them was a natural disaster waiting to happen or a miracle in the making, but either way, Seth tended to view it as a force of nature, and he sure wasn't going to stand in the way.

And so it was that all four of them ended up in a seedy, smoky bar on the outskirts of town.

"I didn't even know the town had any outskirts," Seth marveled

Ryan spotted the pool table as soon as he stepped in the bar, and promptly claimed possession of it. Summer agreed to play a game against him, then came back ten minutes later to the table where Seth and Marissa were painfully making small talk.

"I don't know when he finds time to practice," she complained. "He's even better than last time I played him."

Seth knew then that they wouldn't see Ryan all evening. He was going to manfully defeat every regular here while his friends talked and drank and they'd get thrown out by an angry mob eventually.

It wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind, but seeing Ryan so intent on the game, catching him smiling from time to time, kind of made up for it.

xxxxxxxxx

Three hours and countless pool games later, they made their way back to the car, teasing Ryan about his return to his Chino roots.

"People play pool in Newport, too," he pointed out, sounding more relaxed than he had in weeks.

"Not that kind of cut-throat game," Summer objected.

"Well, it was kind of nice anyway," Marissa said, looking around with a smile. "The four of us spending time together, I mean. We don't do that often enough."

Summer took Seth's arm and leaned on him slightly, Ryan put an arm over Marissa's shoulder, and they fell silent.

They didn't pay much attention to the raised voices behind them, a little further up the street. This wasn't a nice, quiet neighborhood by any stretch of the imagination. Some yelling was to be expected.

The gunshots, however, took them by surprise.

Five of them, in quick succession.

When the silence came back, Seth was lying on top of Summer.

Ryan was lying on top of Marissa.

Two typical white-knights.

Minus the armor.

Which might explain why they were both bleeding.

xxxxxxxxx

"When the hell are they going to tell us something?" Summer fumed, pacing the short length of the waiting room.

Marissa was huddled on a chair, staring at the ground. "It happened so fast."

It was probably the twentieth time she had said so since the cops had first asked her for a statement, and while she wasn't wrong, Summer wished she'd start saying something else.

She wanted someone to share her frustration with, someone to listen to her call the doctors lots of dirty names—and Marissa, who had dated her share of bad boys (and Alex), was bound to know lots of dirty names.

"Yeah, Coop. But seriously, it's been, like, hours—"

"It's been half an hour, actually." Summer spun around to face the tired-looking, dirty man who had spoken. Under normal circumstances, Summer would have felt kind of bad disturbing him. Maybe. But here and now, the man was annoying Summer just by being around.

Everyone was annoying her.

Everyone would annoy her until she could make sure that Cohen was all right.

And Ryan, too—she had grown used to the stupid punk, she even liked him, and she hoped this round of Saving Marissa wouldn't be the one to do him in.

"Whatever," she snapped. Ryan had been bleeding a lot.

So had Seth.

Neither of them had even complained.

Stupid, macho guys.

She was so going to kick their asses once they were better.

In the meantime, she'd settle for ranting. "It's been a long time, and I wish someone could tell me—"

A familiar voice interrupted her before she could get truly started. "They're going to be fine."

Sandy Cohen, standing at the door, grinning like mad, was probably the most glorious sight Summer had ever seen, and that was saying something.

"They are?" she and Marissa asked in unison.

"Seth will be released tomorrow. Flesh wound. He actually…" Sandy hesitated for a moment, sobering up. "He was hit in the, er, backside, but the bullet didn't do too much damage."

"Oh God," Summer whispered, horrified to realize she was about to burst into laughter.

She hadn't really taken time to check where all the blood was coming from, and it had been dark and once the medics had arrived, they had asked the girls to step away.

Only Seth could save a girl's life and end up shot in the ass.

"He's okay?" she asked, needing to make sure.

"He is, I promise," Sandy said, smiling.

Summer allowed herself to breathe again, savoring the words "flesh wound."

"What about Ryan?" Marissa asked then.

"They took him to surgery to remove the bullet, but they say things look good." He looked at the girl seriously. "He'll have to take it easy on his arm for a while."

Meaning no more punching annoying guys to protect Marissa's honor, Summer translated, and she made a mental note to make sure Marissa got the message. Later.

"How are you two holding up?" Sandy asked—because despite his flaws, the guy was decent, caring, and always ready to offer some parenting on the spot, even when his two sons were being worked on by an army of doctors.

"We're fine," Summer said. She smiled bravely. "My dad's on the way to pick us up."

Sandy hesitated, obviously reluctant to leave them there, and Summer insisted, "We'll be fine. Can you… They won't let me see him tonight, will they?"

Sandy grimaced. "I'm not sure, I didn't think to ask. Do you—"

"It's okay," she cut off. "Just, when you see Seth, can you tell him…"

She trailed off, her voice breaking.

She was going to kick his ass for scaring her like that.

Well, as soon as that ass had recovered, of course.

Sandy smiled. "I will." He approached her and gently patted her shoulder. "He'll probably be home tomorrow. How about I call you when he's settled?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice, and impulsively hugged him.

"He'll be fine," Sandy said. It sounded very much like he was trying to placate Summer. She didn't mind.

xxxxxxxxx

Seth never really lost consciousness.

Consciousness sucked.

The doctors and the nurses were gentle and professional, but he felt like a monumental idiot lying there on his stomach while they cleaned the wound. If it hadn't been for the painkillers making him feel slightly disconnected, and the occasional shot of pain, he would have been dying of embarrassment.

In fact, he had to fight a strong urge to hide under the bed.

Counterproductive perhaps, but he thought he was entitled to complain, given that he had been shot in the butt and was now lying bare ass on his bed while more people than he felt comfortable with were looming over him.

Fuck that.

He knew the others were fine—the girls intact, Ryan on his way to a routine surgery (and damn it all, Ryan would get to sleep through most of the embarrassing parts. Nakedness sucked.)—and he knew he was going to be fine, so there was nothing to interfere with his terminal embarrassment.

And to make matters worse, his parents were bound to arrive any time soon.

And if he wasn't safely tucked under the covers by then, he was a) going to sue the hospital for emotional distress and b) going to have a very good story to tell his therapist one day.

Just as the doctors said, "There, all done," interrupting his thoughts, Seth heard a familiar voice from the doorway.

"Seth?"

God.

Kill him now.

The only small mercy was that at least it wasn't his mother who'd entered the room.

"Hey, Dad."

His father was bad enough.

xxxxxxxxx

Ryan woke up in a haze of painkillers, nauseous and confused.

He managed to open his eyes to see an ocean of white surrounding him, and closed them again after a few seconds, his energy already waning.

"What?" he croaked.

Something cold was slipped between his lips. "Ice chips, sweetie."

He sucked on them dutifully.

His brain sluggishly added the white to the ice chips and provided him with an explanation.

Hospital.

Great.

"What happened?" he asked once his throat felt less like sandpaper.

"You got shot. You're going to be okay."

It all came back to him then—the noise, the ducking, the sharp pain.

"The others?"

"Everyone's just fine."

He opened his eyes again then, recognized Kirsten leaning over him.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"I promise."

She might have added something, but he was already drifting back to sleep.

* * *

TBC 


	2. Part Two

**Title **: The Sad, Sad Tale of Two White-Knights

**Author** : Helen C.

**Rating** : PG

**Summary **: Title says it all…

**Disclaimer **: The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Many, many thanks to joey51, who beta'd this.

* * *

_Part Two_

Summer got the first joke in, three days later.

It wasn't a very good joke—too obvious, vastly inappropriate—but it made both Ryan and Seth smile.

Seth was lying on the couch, on his belly, studiously avoiding looking anyone in the eye.

"This is so embarrassing," he mumbled from time to time, usually a propos of nothing.

Ryan and Summer could only sympathize, and offer proper words of comfort—"It'll be over soon," and "Things will get better," and the always popular, "Come on, it could have been a lot worse."

So, yes, eventually, after three days of watching Seth drowning in self-pity, Summer couldn't resist any longer.

"This is just so…" Seth said. He didn't need to finish his sentence anymore. Summer and Ryan both knew what he meant.

"Yeah, I'm sure it must be a real pain in the ass," Summer said.

She could have pretended she hadn't meant to say that.

It would have been a lie.

She thought that maybe, laughing about the whole situation would help Seth in the long run.

Ryan, arm in a sling, the living picture of the injured hero, bit back his own smile, waiting for Seth's reaction.

Only when Seth snorted, then chuckled, did Ryan laugh a little too.

Summer shot him a triumphant look and he nodded in return.

And so Operation Cheer Seth Up started.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Cohens seemed to be expecting Ryan and Seth to freak out.

The way they hovered, making sure they both took their medication, making sure they got enough rest, making sure they knew they could talk to them, were proof enough.

Kirsten had actually tucked Ryan into bed when he had first come back, and for the most part, Ryan hadn't minded. It was nice having the Cohens' attention again; he just regretted that they had been so frightened in the process.

"I know it was scary," Sandy said the day after Ryan had come home. "And I want you to know that I'm here, if you want to talk. You and Seth… Well, I'm here for you, you know that, right?"

Ryan smiled and nodded, knowing that Seth was too embarrassed yet to realize that he had been shot—it would sink in eventually, but for now, the least of Seth worries was the actual shooting.

As for Ryan…

Well, sure, he had been scared—he remembered the girls' panic in the parking lot, and he remember how freaky it had been to lie on his back in the ER, allowing nurses to cut the clothes from his body while doctors were yelling strange names all around him, calling for tests and talking about surgery.

They had barely paused when he had asked for news of Seth, and it was only when he had threatened to go look for himself that one of the nurses had gone for news, and come back a few minutes later smiling reassuringly.

Still, now that the truly bad part was over, now that he was home safe, Ryan wasn't even remotely disturbed by what had happened.

He had gone through worse, and in far more challenging circumstances. Compared to AJ, compared to Juvie, compared to what had happened with Trey, this was a walk in the park.

He was surrounded by people who loved him, people who were going out of their way to make sure he was well cared for.

He knew he had nothing to fear anymore.

Now, if he could convince the Cohens of the fact...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan was sleeping in the pool house when Taylor dropped by.

She all but jumped on the bed, waking him with a start.

"What?"

"Hey!" She smiled her ten-thousand-megawatt smile his way, making him regret not having his sunglasses in hand. He frowned at the thought. Damn, but the painkillers were seriously messing with his thought processes. "How are you?"

Ryan liked Taylor. She amused him, she had proven she could be a good friend sometimes, and she was more interesting than she came across.

"She has layers," Seth had once said, and Ryan had come to see that.

She also scared him sometimes.

Right this moment, for example, when she had that gleam in her eyes telling him she was up to something.

"I brought you something!" She handed him a wrapped, oddly-shaped package that he accepted carefully, still trying to clear the last cobwebs of sleep from his brain.

"Thanks," he said, proceeding to unwrap the package—not an easy feat with only one arm available.

After a few minutes of struggling under her perky smile, he found himself holding, of all things, a—

"It's a bear!" Taylor exclaimed as he stared at the thing.

"It's pink." He tried to keep his tone neutral but he was pretty sure it caught on the last syllable.

"Yeah, I know. Pretty isn't it? I got flowers for Seth and a little something for his injury, but you don't strike me as the flower type."

Ryan nodded dumbly.

Looked at her triumphant smile.

Thought back to some of the stories he'd heard about her and her boyfriend.

Made a mental note to check that there weren't any cameras hidden in the bear. He wouldn't put it past Taylor. He wouldn't put anything past Taylor.

"Thanks," he repeated.

And, his luck being what it was, Kirsten stepped in at that point, finding him holding a pink teddy bear and smiling at Taylor like an idiot.

Just great.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seth was moping in his room when Taylor came in.

She all but jumped on the bed and he glared at her as well as he could—funny how even three years in the company of Ryan hadn't made Seth a master in the art of glaring at people. Hell, he wasn't even a decent apprentice yet.

"What?"

"Hey!" She smiled her ten-thousand-megawatt smile his way. "How are you?"

_I got shot in the ass. How about you? Done anything interesting recently?_ "Fine."

"I got you some flowers," she said. "Your mom is putting them in a vase."

"Er," Seth said.

Sometimes, Taylor was a little weird.

Sometimes, she was downright scary.

She even managed to make Ryan squirm sometimes, and Seth would never have thought he'd see the day when any girl would be able to do that.

"There's also this." She handed him a wrapped, oddly-shaped package that he accepted carefully, wondering what she could possibly offer him. Knowing Taylor, anything was possible.

He proceeded to unwrap the package, tearing up the paper and finding himself with a—

"It's a cushion!" she explained. "It'll help when you can sit again. Make seats more comfy, you know."

He stared at her, speechless. "I…"

"You're welcome," she said generously. "I can't stay long. I need to meet Sung Ho at the Mall." She leaned in, whispered, "We have plans for tonight."

Seth got a very powerful mental image of the two of them—some of the stories circulating about Taylor were pretty colorful—and swallowed thickly. "Good for you." _I'll be here feeling miserable, thanks for asking._

"Well, I should go." She patted Seth's shoulder gently. "See you soon, Seth."

She went just as she had come—abruptly, without a goodbye.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"So, you got a visit from Taylor too?" Seth asked Ryan, later that day.

Interestingly, Ryan flushed a light shade of pink.

"Yeah."

"What did she want?"

"She wanted to see how I was doing. I guess." Ryan looked at the ceiling for a while, entranced by whatever he was seeing up there. "She came see you too?"

"Yup."

They fell silent.

"Okay, I give," Seth said after a while. "What did she bring you?"

Ryan bit his lip, looked down. "Hm." He shot a look at Seth. "What did she bring you?"

Seth swallowed, thinking about Taylor's gift (carefully hidden under piles of clothes.)

"Never mind."

"Yeah."

"Definitely scary," Seth said.

Ryan nodded in heartfelt agreement.

* * *

TBC 


	3. Part Three

**Title **: The Sad, Sad Tale of Two White-Knights

**Author** : Helen C.

**Rating** : PG

**Summary **: Title says it all…

**Disclaimer **: The characters and the universe were created and are owned by Josh Schwartz. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Many, many thanks to joey51, who beta'd this.

* * *

_Part Three_

It took Ryan the better part of a week to notice that there was a problem with Seth.

One week of teasing, one week of seeing Seth smile and even laugh with the rest of them.

One week of Seth making fun of himself without even once asking to be acknowledged for what he had done—and he had, after all, pushed Summer down to safety.

One week of wondering why he had the nagging feeling that something was not right in Seth land.

When the light dawned, he could have kicked himself.

He didn't use to be so slow before, so he was putting it on the painkillers.

It was their fault if he hadn't noticed that Seth wasn't really enjoying their jokes. How the hell had he missed the hurt look that flashed in Seth's eyes every time they joked about the state of his ass? How had he missed the fact that Seth seemed increasingly worried as days went by?

And damn, but how could he have thought for a moment that Seth was actually, seriously having fun?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Once things became clear, Ryan told Summer, "He's not laughing with us anymore. I'm not sure he ever was, but now? Definitely not laughing."

"He took a bullet in the ass," Summer pointed out.

Ryan heaved an exasperated sigh.

It wasn't that Summer was stupid; he knew she had been scared, he knew she was trying to make things better, but it was still his duty, as best friend, to retort, "Yeah, he took a bullet, Summer. Pushing you down. And he's…"

_He's embarrassed._

_He doesn't say so, but can't you tell what it means, that he doesn't complain about his battle wounds?_

_He's more than embarrassed enough already._

_Come on, if I can see it, surely you can too?_

She looked down, looking almost ashamed. "I didn't mean to—" she started.

"I know." He offered her a tired smile. "I didn't either. Hey, even _he_ laughed."

She nodded, sighing. "I know. So, what do we do now?"

And so Operation Cheer Seth Up, Phase II started.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"This is unfair," Seth said.

He had been growing increasingly grumpy in the last few days—partly, Ryan guessed, because he was tired of hurting, tired of not being able to sit, and sick of all the bad puns about how the situation "sucked ass."

"I mean, you got injured and even your injury was, well, serious. Me, I get hit, you know… and everyone finds it funny."

"I know," Ryan said. Seth was right. It wasn't fair.

And if he had to be shot, Ryan was glad it was in the arm and not in the ass.

Sure, having an arm out of commission sucked. It made everything more difficult—eating, showering, getting dressed. But on the other hand, it was so much more…

So much less…

Well, it was so much better than what Seth had to suffer through.

Ryan knew that from personal, painful experience.

He had never talked about it, had even avoided thinking about it, because yeah, embarrassing was a weak word for it.

But Seth had been miserable for days, so in the spirit of fairness and friendship, Ryan found himself offering, "You know, Turo was drunk once, and he mistook me for a thief when I sneaked out of their house. He got me with a knife. Shallow cut." He felt himself blush at the mere thought of it, gestured vaguely to his lap. "Hm, there…"

Seth gulped and stared at him, wide eyed, his face almost comical in his surprise. "He cut your—"

"No!" Ryan yelped. He bit his lip. "He got me just above, hm…"

He trailed off, grimacing.

He could still remember the compassionate glances from the doctor who had stitched up the cut, while Ryan was using all his willpower not to squirm away. The doctor and the nurse (the young, pretty, _female_ nurse, damn it all to fucking hell) had tried to preserve his modesty, but there hadn't been much to do.

Trey, fuck him and his sick sense of humor, had used the whole incident against him for years.

Ryan had had to wear sweat pants for over a week, unable to stand a jean rubbing on the stitches.

The nurse had had to shave him to get a better look at the injury, for Christ's sake. It had itched like crazy when it had grown back, and he was never going to tell that part to Seth—there were things a guy just didn't share, not even out of friendship.

"It was fucking awful," Seth groaned. "I had the feeling they were all snickering behind my back. Literally behind my back, if you see what I mean."

Ryan saw, and could only cringe in sympathy.

That must have sucked at least as much as his own experience.

"And the worst of it…" Seth trailed off and Ryan raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"There's worse?"

"They're going to eat me alive at school." Seth turned to look at him and Ryan was startled to see that he was truly scared. "I was never going to win any popularity contest, but this… They're going to have a field day, Ryan."

"No, they're not." He should have guessed that that was what was bothering Seth. Hell, Ryan had prayed long and hard for no one to learn just where Arturo had hurt him, and all his prayers had been in vain, and there had been a few fistfights before the snickering stopped.

Things hadn't been so bad in Chino, because he was an Atwood and everyone knew you didn't mess with an Atwood—not unless you wanted to get on the wrong side of the other Atwood, Turo, Eddie, and Theresa as well.

Seth was right.

The Newport jocks were never going to let this go.

But maybe there was something Ryan could do to help Seth avoid this particular embarrassment.

Seth had rarely looked so low-spirited. "Right. 'Course it will."

"Seriously, I wouldn't let it come to that," Ryan said. Sure, he had promised the Cohens he wouldn't fight anymore, and that was a promise he intended to keep, but fighting might not be necessary. Ryan was still pretty good at intimidating people, and he wasn't on probation anymore. Everyone at school knew he could back up any threats—strangely, even though he had paid dearly for punching Dean Hess, it had also shown the Newport kids how far he was willing to go to protect his friends. No one had bothered him since he had been re-admitted to Harbor.

Seth shrugged. "I know. But Ryan, when I said that united, we were unstoppable?"

Ryan nodded, resisting the urge to point out that they hadn't been divided when they had gotten shot. Seth knew that already.

"I wasn't thinking about such extreme circumstances."

"I know." Well aware that he was grasping at straws, Ryan went on, "But seriously, Seth. I've got your back. And so does Summer—and everyone knows not to get her angry. Rage blackouts."

Seth actually gave a little smile at that.

"And honestly, in a fight between Taylor and the Newport jocks? My money's on Taylor."

Seth's smile broadened.

Oh yeah.

Taylor was a force to be reckoned with.

"And, well, Marissa can slap the hell out of anyone, too."

Seth snorted but Ryan wasn't laughing. She might be a little princess, but she sure packed a punch—Luke could have attested to that fact, had he still been around.

"We've got you covered," Ryan promised.

Seth looked almost convinced.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It took some planning, some well-times threats, some threatening glares, but by the time Seth was cleared to go back to school, Taylor and Summer had put the fear of God into everyone.

Ryan didn't doubt for a second that there were bad jokes being told when Seth wasn't around to hear them. It didn't matter. No one so much as smiled in his direction, and that was really all Ryan could have hoped for.

The Core Four (Plus One) stuck together.

The boys took bullets for the girls, the girls went to bat for the boys.

And everyone in Harbor knew better than pronounce a certain three-letter word within hearing range of the five of them.

* * *

end 


End file.
